


Underdressed

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t care how adorable your dimples are, this is not funny.  Undress me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underdressed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the alphabet meme and [](http://citymusings.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://citymusings.livejournal.com/)**citymusings** ’ prompt of **Z is for zippers**. With a little encouragement, I may still have it. That makes me a very happy girl.

The loud banging on his door made Hotch practically jump off the bed. He was dressed for bed, boxers and a tee shirt, but he pulled the door open without looking through the peephole. If someone banged like that it meant something was wrong. Hotch wanted to help if he could.

“Prentiss?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I'm stuck.” She said.

“I'm sorry?”

“I'm stuck. I can't believe it; I'm fuckin stuck.”

“OK…come in.”

Emily walked through the door, breezing past him and walking down the little hallway into his hotel room. She left the scent of Vera Wang’s Sheer Veil in her wake and it took a moment for Hotch to realize what was going on.

“You got me into this dress, Aaron Hotchner, you're damn sure gonna get me out of it.”

“Have you been drinking?” he asked.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything? The zipper’s stuck and I'm trapped in this dress. Help me!”

“Oh.” What she was saying finally dawned on Hotch. He actually smiled a full-on dimpled grin.

“I don’t care how adorable your dimples are, this is not funny. Undress me.”

They'd gone undercover tonight. Hotch never liked putting the team in those kinds of situations but it was essential for this case. It made him feel somewhat better that both Prentiss and Morgan had undercover experience. The BAU was in Miami, on the trail of a group pulling off very high end heists and home invasions. Two people had been murdered and the profilers believed the murders would likely escalate.

Their suspected Unsubs, a wolf pack of wannabe hipster twenty-somethings, hung out at a South Beach club called Aqua. It was where the young, rich, and attractive set got their kicks this month. Emily, Rossi, and Morgan all worked the club tonight. Emily was a server so she had to wear the aquamarine mini-dress and the white leather high heel boots. She was turning heads all night, including that of her Unit Chief and two of the potential Unsubs. They’d be back there tomorrow gathering more information.

“Your zipper’s stuck?” he asked.

“I tried to pull the dress over my head but it’s too damn tight. I can't believe servers have to wear these…I feel so naked.”

She looked naked too. The dress barely brushed the top of her thighs; the front was very low cut. Emily couldn’t possibly be wearing a bra with it. Hotch didn’t know much about women and their undergarments but it would surely show. The idea that she couldn’t pull off underwear in it either was too insane for Hotch to imagine. Unfortunately now nothing could shake the thought from his head. A cold shower later might help.

“OK, turn around.” He said.

“Thank you.” she sighed, doing what he asked. “I feel like I'm in a strait jacket and hooker heels. Oh my God, I cannot wait to soak my feet. I think these boots are a violation of the 8th Amendment. These girls need to unionize; someone should call OSHA.”

“The boots are nice.”

“No, they would be nice if the heels were two inches. Four is insane. It’s by the grace of God, and a year of charm school, that I can walk in these damn things.”

“You went to charm school?” Hotch asked.

“Just unzip me please.”

“Anyway,” Hotch took a deep breath before putting his hand on the zipper of her dress. She was right, it was stuck. “I thought the more inches, the better the experience.”

“Of course you did, Aaron…you're a man.”

“So I'm wrong?” He tugged and tugged but nothing happened. “Bend over.”

“Excuse me?” she looked back at him.

“Here, come over to the dresser.” He moved her and then pushed gently until her hands were out in front of her. Hotch took another deep breath. Now almost nothing about Emily Prentiss was concealed from him. “Maybe this position might work better.”

“Inches, positions; I don’t know what this just turned into.”

“I'm just trying to get you out of your clothes, Prentiss. You knocked on my door at two in the morning and I'm trying to help.”

“This is so embarrassing. I'm a 30 something woman and I can't get my clothes off.”

“I think I might need scissors.”

“No!” she exclaimed. “C'mon, you have to do something.”

“I am going to do something…I'm gonna cut you out of the dress.”

“Hotch!” she turned around and looked at him with wide brown eyes. “You can't do that.”

“Why? Its either that or you're stuck. I don’t know what's wrong with the zipper but it won't budge.”

“Please try again. I just…what you're suggesting is a bit extreme. Please try again.”

Emily turned around, bending over the dresser again. Hotch licked his lips and just gave up on the dirty thoughts rampaging through his mind. He was just a man. Most of them thought he was more than that but he wasn’t. He was a man.

And a beautiful, sexy woman in half of a dress was bent over his dresser seeking his help and attention. He probably barely had to lift the thing up to take her from behind. OK, that was a really, really bad thought. Would Prentiss be concerned if he excused himself for a moment? The room was getting too hot for him.

“I um…” he ran his hand over his face, glad that she couldn’t see him. “OK, one more go.”

“Thank you.” Emily let out of the breath she was holding.

She stiffened when Hotch was on her again and he whispered for her to relax. She could feel him tugging, pulling, finagling, but the damn thing didn’t move. Emily was really stuck in this dress. And it wasn’t even a sexy dress. It was a cheap, slutty dress with tacky boots.

Yes, over the years she had been bent over tables for worse but tonight she was with Hotch. She was with Hotch in a cheap, slutty dress and they weren't even going to have fun with it. Emily could feel him back there, on her. He was wearing boxer shorts and she was wearing the equivalent of tissue paper…it wasn’t difficult to feel him. Hotch had been her only option after trying for almost a half hour on her own.

She could’ve gone to Morgan, he would've helped. He also would've made way too many jokes at her expense. Rossi was a no-go; that was like asking her dad to help her undress. Anyway, he didn’t always know where to put his eyes. Emily adored him but sometimes wanted to slug him.

Poor Spencer would've been sweet in his attempts but probably couldn’t have gotten his hands to stop shaking long enough to do something. JJ was pregnant. She was pregnant and didn’t need the strain of this mission. If she wasn’t, Emily would've gone straight to her and saved herself a lot of trouble. Hotch unzipping her was definitely a lot of trouble.

Hotch gasped when the material ripped. The zipper was actually coming apart from the seam but still wasn’t coming unzipped.

“That’s it. I can't hold back any longer; I'm getting the scissors.”

“Please don’t.” Emily practically begged.

“Why not? You can be honest with me, Prentiss, seriously. I have a steady hand and I promise not to hurt you. Do you have a fear of sharp objects?”

“I'm naked.” She confessed.

“I'm sorry?” His neck moved, as if he was trying to get his face closer. It was a move older people made when they thought they heard something but was sure their ears were playing tricks on them.

“I'm not wearing a damn thing under here. I mean what could I wear under this thing? I'm naked Hotch and I don’t want you to cut my dress to tatters because all you'll find underneath is my skin.”

“I have to get the scissors.” Hotch walked into the bathroom and closed the door. A part of him expected to hear Emily running out. But there was silence out there. He took more deep breaths, grabbed the first aid kit from the counter, and pulled out a pair of scissors. When he emerged, Emily was standing in the middle of his floor, barefoot.

“It was just stupid to keep the shoes on. They were killing me.”

“Your feet look…”

“Yeah, like they’ve been through basic training. I don’t know if I can do it again tomorrow night.”

“Maybe we can get them to give you a lower pair. You're not actually a hostess.”

“But we don’t want anyone to know that.” Emily countered. “I have my Docs in my go bag; I’ll wear them most of the day tomorrow. I should survive.”

“Should?” Hotch looked at her. He wasn’t looking for signs of weakness; he was just looking for signs. Emily Prentiss wasn’t usually the one who told people things…they had to look. Hotch had been looking at her for over two years. He felt he could read her pretty well now.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She turned her back to him. “C'mon.”

“I'm not going to cut the whole thing of course.” Hotch walked over to her. “I’ll just cut about halfway down the seam and you should be able to lift it over your head after that. Wow, I don’t know how women do this every night.”

“Trust me Hotch, usually getting undressed is a lot more fun; whether you do it with company or alone.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He replied, wondering if her double entendres were on purpose.

“What did you mean?”

“I just mean displaying themselves for everyone to see. They sell themselves for bottles of Cristal, Cuban cigars, and entrée into that world. I don't know,” he shook his head. “It’s just…I'm not a woman. I don’t know.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes I don’t know either. By the way, women aren’t the only one who sells themselves for those kinds of things. They’re just the only ones who do it in these clothes and shoes.”

Hotch nodded, even though Emily couldn’t see that. He was careful with the scissors, which were a small pair anyway. He took hold of the ripped seam, cutting down to the halfway mark of the zipper.

“There, that should be enough for you to get undressed now.” he said.

“Thanks. Your tea is on me tomorrow.”

“You don’t owe me anything Prentiss.” he shook his head.

“I’ll do it anyway. Goodnight, Hotch.”

She pressed her hand on the front of the dress as she crouched down to pick up the boots. Walking to the door, Hotch stopped her.

“Your room is all the way down the hall.” He said.

“I know.”

“You're just gonna walk out like that. You're not dressed.”

Emily almost said it reminded her of senior trip but she bit her tongue. “I'm fine.”

“You're not dressed, Prentiss; you're not leaving like that.”

“You wanna share your bed?” she asked.

“Here.” Hotch went over to his go bag. He pulled out a pair of boxer briefs and a tee shirt. “You can put these on in the bathroom. Really, I would feel better. Your clothes are just…please.”

“So you would rather someone see me leaving your room in your underclothes than in my ripped dress?” Emily asked.

“I don’t like what the latter conveys.” Hotch replied.

She nodded solemnly but didn’t respond. Instead she dropped the boots, grabbed the clothes, and went into the bathroom. Hotch took a beer out of the mini-fridge and sat on the end of the bed to wait for her. Emily emerged in less than ten minutes, looking comfortable and free.

“Please tell me you have one of those beers for me.” she said.

“There's one in the fridge.”

She got one and sat beside him on the bed. They didn’t talk to each other, which was awkward and comfortable at the same time. Emily was just glad to be free of the dress. It had ruined her nice buzz and she was hopeful this beer would put her right over the edge to sleepy buzzed. It would be morning and they would be back on the case before she could blink.

“Do you…?” Hotch stopped before he got the whole sentence out.

“What?” she looked at him.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I'm glad you're out of that dress.”

“Oh my God, me too.” she laughed a bit. “That was pure insanity; even for me. I'm serious about your tea being on me tomorrow. Lunch too, OK?”

“If you want.”

Emily nodded. She finished off the beer, put the bottle in the little recycle bucket by the trashcan, and stood.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

He did, like the gentleman he’d been raised to be. Opening it, Hotch checked to make sure none of their team were having a late night stroll down the hall. He knew that he and Prentiss hadn't been doing anything but it wasn’t going to be easy to explain. Even if it was effortless, no one was going to believe him.

“Thanks again.” she said.

“Goodnight, Emily.”

She smiled when he said her first name, starting down the hall with her mangled dress and her hooker boots in hand. Hotch stood at his door until he watched her walk into her room. Then he closed the door and leaned on it. No one would have ever believed the true reason she was leaving his room if they were caught in the hallway.

They surely would never believe what got Emily there in the first place. He went back inside, finished his beer, and got into bed. It had been time to call it a night hours ago. Now Hotch might actually be able to do it.

***

  



End file.
